


Do Us Part

by Blucifer



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Childhood Friends, Fluff, Ghost Chan, Ghost Sex, M/M, Masturbation, PWP, erotic posession, making it work when your soulmate is a ghost, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 11:44:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16809937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blucifer/pseuds/Blucifer
Summary: They’ve both been writing “Felix Bang,” and “Chris Chan Lee” in the margins of their notebooks since way back when they were kids. They're not about to let that pesky little, "til death do us part" thing stop them.





	Do Us Part

**Author's Note:**

> Comment with twitter handle if you wanna connect. I'm a bit weird about just giving my @ away. Also, happy 61st day of halloween.

“Felix,” Chan’s voice is bubbly and bright, “happy birthday,” like its his birthday, not Felix’s. He’s always been like that, never one to make a fuss about his own birthday, but excited to plan for everyone else’s. Chan leans forward to brush the hair from Felix’s face, but it falls to the side instead of getting tucked behind his ear.

Felix can feel the cool touch of fingers on the shell of his ear.

“Make a wish,” Chan’s eyes are soft, and they shine with the warmth reflected off of the thin candle sunk into the cupcake that sits between them.

Has like…mentioned in the past fifteen minutes that he’s in love?

Closing his eyes, and lacing his fingers between Chan’s, Felix does as he’s told. He takes a deep breath, and makes a wish. Upon opening his eyes again he laughs, “We’re the same age now.”

“Wait are we really?”

“Yeah,” Felix insists. “Next year, I’ll be older than you.”

“No way.” Chan’s mouth widens into a smile first, “you can start paying on dates.” Then, when the warmth of his own joke fades, “how do you feel about that?” Chan, not willing to let displeasure slide onto his face for the sake of saving Felix’s feelings, it’s up to Felix to understand what’s wrong.

“Uh,” Felix raises the cupcake that sits on a white and pink rose saucer, stolen from the kitchen, to his mouth and licks off the pale pink frosting. Immediately, his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth, and he smacks against the sugar paste loudly. Really, he’s grateful for the distraction because it gives him time to think about what to say.

Because Father Ralph wrote down for him the rites of excorcism on thick paper on the inside of his bible, the one he got for confirmation. Got pissed off at the insinuation and threw it out…until Chan used all of his ghost juice to fish it out of the trash and say, “we might want it someday.”

“I think it will be kind of cool.” Felix decides as he bites into he cake. “Since age is such a big deal. You’ll have to call me hyung now.”

“Only if we’re speaking Korean,” Chan quips. “You still know what. Six words?”

“After classes all semester? At least seven or eight.” Felix laughs, “you always kind of lording that over my head growing up, “you have to respect me, Felix,” he tries to mock Chan’s tone, but instead the words dry up on his tongue.

As much as they both claim to be past it, it’s difficult to keep their minds from drifting back to the past. The memory of a hot January day, and a trip to the beach, is always present in the back of their minds. But…it should’ve been completely unremarkable.

Up until _that_ moment, it was. Chan picked him up in the rusted out Holden his parents gave him for his seventeenth birthday. He assumes that they ran to the garage and pulled out their surf boards. He assumes that mom told them to be careful, because she _always_ did. But…what if she forgot to tell them that day?

He can remember Chan wearing this shirt that Felix loved so much. Buttercream yellow, with designs from a famous New York artist across the front, little blue and red dancing men. Felix thinks that he wore his mesh water shoes. The last time they’d gone, Felix cut his foot on a jagged shell, but here’s the thing. He _knows_ those shoes in the surf around that time.

The point is, he’ll never be sure, but he feels like he should remember ever single detail of that day.

So he doesn’t know if Chan kissed him as soon as he saw him. Not for sure. He doesn’t know what songs they belted out on the drive there, or if they stopped for burgers on the way because Chan was always, always hungry.

But, Felix can remember with alarming clarity the sight of Chan getting sucked under. They’d been at it for hours, but Felix begged for _just one more._ Chan looked tired, but excited, and that combination haunts him to this very day. The burn of water pouring into his lungs wakes him up in the middle of the night, but not nearly as often as the haunting image of the bottom of Chan’s foot, wrinkled and white, getting sucked under.

All the things he’d much rather forget, and none of the little detail’s he’d love to remember.

In the present, Felix shoves the rest of the cupcake into his mouth and wipes his hands on his comforter. “Look, this is my life now. This is normal.” Felix grabs for Chan’s hand, and he moves it so that they fit together the best that they can. Although he cannot feel the warmth or the pressure of his touch, they look right when they’re clasped together, and that’s worth something for sure.

Everyone knows the boy who almost drowned is haunted by the boy who actually did. Chan is a legend in their quiet little rusted out neighborhood having appeared before almost everyone. 

Mom knows that when the china rattles in the cabinet at dinner time she’s forgotten to set Chan a place at the table. Whenever this happens, Felix leaps up from the table and grabs another set of mismatched floral china. Chan’s mother knows that he’s always nearby. She teaches literature at the high school, and when Felix was her student she watched Chan hover over his shoulder while she gave lecture each day. She used to stare at them both with equal tinges of bitterness and sorrow, but by the time she graduated she simply patted the air over Felix’s shoulder. Hyperaware of Felix’s dismal grades, and Chan’s smarts, she’d always whisper, “no cheating.” 

Chan’s not going anywhere. “This is how I wanna be. If I end up forty with a twenty-one year old ghost boyfriend, that’s fine. Like a cougar. Ghost cougar.”

“That insinuates you’re the ghost, and also a giant cat,” Chan says.

“I’m fine with that,” Felix responds.”

Then, “people change.” The insinuation being…Felix will change. Will want someone whose living. There’s this assumption that Felix will want to be known as someone other than the boy with a ghost on his shoulder. But the unspoken argument goes both ways. Felix assumes that someday Chan will get tired, and will want to move on and be at rest.

But, since they’d both been writing “Felix Bang,” and “Chris Chan Lee” in the margins of their notebooks way back when they were kids, they’re both kind of screwed. 

“Trust me, I will always want to be a ghost cougar.” Felix lunges at him, and instead of tackling him down onto the bed in a fury of limbs, Felix drifts down toward the quilt in slow motion. Chan’s abilities are limited, but he makes it known from time to time that he can, and he does influence the tangible world in which Felix lives. Felix expects to hit the quilt, but instead Chan keeps him hovering just inches above. It looks and it feels as if he’s really laying on Chan’s chest. “I love you. I’d love you if you haunted my toilet bowl. If you looked like a cartoon ghost, a sheet with eye holes cut into it.

Chan laughs, but it’s Felix’s chest that rumbles with delight.

Something unseen and icy brushes against Felix’s lips. Felix closes his eyes and opens his mouth letting Chan explore his body. Truth be told, he kind of loves kissing Chan like this. For all the fire, and the heat, and the pressure they had before, something about this makes them take it slower. He can feel the cool electric sensation press against his tongue and the roof of his mouth. There’s pressure at the base of Felix’s neck as Chan cups his face. Then, there’s the feeling of an ethereal hand sliding down his back, and up his shirt. Felix’s skin pebbles into gooseflesh, and he sighs into the contact. Then, there’s very real feeling hand rubbing his ass through his jeans.

Chan’s ability to interact with the living is limited. He can pick, and he can choose, but he cannot do everything. Chan always seems to save his energy to grab his ass. Cool hands grip his cheeks and knead the flesh so hard that Felix gasps into Chan’s mouth. Then, Chan is working a hand between his legs, and kissing him through it all.

“Chan,” soft, barely a whisper.

Suspended in mid-air, Felix rocks his hips against Chan. Felix asked once if he could feel. Chan said that he could , but everything was muted. By now Felix knows that Chan cannot feel pain, and he can almost feel pleasure, but what he likes is knowing that Felix feels good.

Which means, at least one thing, remained unchanged.

“Would you like one of your birthday gifts now, Felix?”

Felix opens his eyes, blinking slowly as if he’d just woken up from a nap. Fooling around with Chan always makes him feel like he’s waking up from a very good dream with the air conditioner cranked a little bit too high. Cool, floating on clouds, really relaxed, but really turned on. His body and his mind twist and writhe to grapple with the feeling. “Gifts?” Felix shifts on Chan’s chest, and arches a single brow at his boyfriend in suspicion. “As in more than one?”

“Yeah,” Chan brags. “Two.”

“Yeah, gimme.”

Chan slowly lets Felix the rest of the way down onto the mattresss so that he’s laying on his stomach. 

“Turn over, yeah?”

Felix complies, so that he’s looking up at the aged yellow popcorn ceiling. “What am I getting?” Felix has an idea or so, and so he starts to wriggle out of his shirt, but Chan places a hand upon his chest. Chan’’s presence feels so heavy and real that it makes him pause completely.

“Do you trust me Felix?”

“Of course.”

“I think I can do something where we can both really like it, but it involves um.” A nervous habit from when they were younger, Chan catches his bottom lip between his teeth, and it makes Felix reach upward and rest his hand upon Chan’s chest. Whatever it is, it’s alright. Chan wouldn’t hurt him. They both know that. “Possession.”

“Uh, you can do that?”

“I think so,” Chan responds. “I’ve been getting stronger.” At that, the hem of Felix’s shirt is rucked up past his nipples, and Felix squirms beneath Chan’s cool touch. “Just tell me if you’re wearing a cross or something right?”

“I’m not.” Felix wets his lips with his tongue. “So let’s do it.”

Chan kisses him, long and slow like he loves. But, it’s easy for Felix to tell that things are different this time around. Lapping at his mouth is soon replaced by the feeling of pressure. When Felix opens his eyes, Chan’s own are pressed close to his.

First, it feels like Chan is laying on top of him. The sensation reminds him of all the times that Chan would fuck him in missionary, cum inside, and slump against his body, tired and heavy. Then, Felix feels the familiar electric tingle of Chan against his body. The hair stands up on his arms, but everything feels so right. Like he’s had one too many glasses of wine and cold at the same time. Like he’s a little drunk, and really needs a blanket. That feeling soon fades and is replaced by a tingling heat. That reminds him of the time Chan dared him to lick a battery.

“You okay Felix?”

“I’m fine,” he can’t see Chan anymore, and his view of Chan’s beautiful brown eyes is replaced by the ceiling once again. He can’t really hear Chan’s voice, so much as he feels Chan asking him. Must’ve worked.

Felix’s hand moves of its own volition from his side to his chest. Fingers trace the ripple of his stomach and draw up the v of his hips. “Never better really,” he says with a grin. “How are you?”

The sound comes from Felix’s throat, in his own unique baritone voice, but the drunken stupid giggle sound that he makes is uniquely Chan’s, and it speaks volumes. “You’re really soft.”

“So you’re fine,” Felix says with a smile.

Felix’s hands drift up and down his stomach under Chan’s control, and Chan makes sure that he catches every line and every divot of muscle. Felix drags his nails back upward to his chest, and Chan traces his nipples with his fingers. Although this is new, they know what they’re doing. They’ve had to get pretty creative ever since Chan…

Because of this, Chan loves to watch and tell him what to do. He always has Felix play with his nipples. So, Felix is indulgent of Chan, and lets him tug and soothe the skin over and over again until there are tears in the corners of his eyes, and his nipples are pinched pink and sore.

“Cha-an,” Chan moves Felix’ hand across his chest, and even though it’s his own hand, the pressure and the drag feel completely different. The touch is much more patient and much more skilled. Suddenly, Felix is overwhelmed by the sudden realization that this is a thousand or more times better than being told what to do by Chan.

“Feels good?”

“Can you feel it?”

“Yea-“ Felix grinds his palm over his clothed erection, interrupting Chan. “Really good-ah-Felix.”

God, he’s missed those sounds.

Felix’s hands drift up his neck, and he cups his own face, which would be kind of strange if it weren’t Chan getting to know his body all over again. Chan guides Felix’s fingers to his mouth, but it’s Felix that consciously parts his lips to let them in. He coats the fingers in saliva, bobbing on them like he’d do for Chan’s cock. He nips at the skin lightly, assuming that Chan can feel the slight sharp flash of pain that fades to hazy love drunk pleasure too.

“Really, good for me too,” Felix husks when Chan removes the fingers from his mouth. His wet hand lingers on his cheek for a moment, before being dragged down his bare chest Felix props himself up on a single elbow to watch Chan work his magic. With Felix’s free hand, Chan pops open the button on his jeans. Chan has always been exceptionally talented.

Chan pushes his jeans and his underwear down Felix’s legs, and Felix can feel his resolve rapidly crumble. His plan was to let Chan do whatever he wanted for however long that he wanted, but... His heart races, no doubt a combination of Chan’s excitement and his own. Chan’s touches become erratic, as if he isn’t sure where to move next, or what to do. His own hands graze over his hips, his cock, in between his legs to tug at the soft skin of his sac. Each and every touch makes him squirm involuntarily, and his need for more edges out his desire to make Chan happy.

“You feel so much Felix.” Before Felix can respond, he’s tucking his legs up to his chest, but not of his own volition. His hand moves and Felix feels his mouth fall open in horror as Chan moves his hand downward and— _Smack_

“Chan!” Never mind the fact that it was kind of hot. “You can’t make me spank myself.”

“Sorry?” But he’s absolutely not sorry. Chan does it again, and again, until Felix wrestles back control.

Felix isn’t so detached from the way that it used to be that he forgets what Chan likes. He unfolds his legs, lays flat on the bed again, and grips his cock giving it a single hard pump.

The groan that is torn from his mouth is distinctly not his own. Chan’s voice, stuttering, needy, “Felix.”

“We should have a rule,” Felix suggests. “You can do what ever you’d like,” he says this while he works his hand over his own cock. “Just don’t make me look too stupid. Right?”

“Deal.”

Felix absolutely doesn’t believe it, not for a minute. But it’s not really important. Not when the hand on his cock starts to tingle. The sensation on his cock changes, like he’s being touched by someone else indicating that Chan has taken over for him. Chan tugs downward, and then twists his hand upward. Hypnotic, the way that he watches his foreskin glide up over the head of his cock, and then unsheathe the head with a pearl of pre-cum on the downward stroke.

His toes curl with a familiar warmth that spreads up to his legs and into his stomach. He’s close but…there’s one thing he wants more than anything else. “Not yet.”

Chan stills Felix’s hand on his cock. Felix doesn’t have to say anything. It’s like Chan knows too. Felix’s arm snaps back and reaches or the bottle of lube that he keeps in the bookshelf near the headboard. With rapt fascination Felix watches the viscous clear liquid slide down his fingers and spill onto the bedspread. Then, he flops back down onto the bed under Chan’s direction.

The first finger is admittedly a tight fit. He’s been super busy with school lately, so the most they’ve been doing is jerking off and making out. “Really tight Felix.”

“Yeah,” Felix chuckles. “Or, I’m tense because you hardly ever bottomed.”

“You never wanted to—”

“I still don’t want to,” Felix responds. “Seriously though,” Felix forces air into his lungs and exhales slowly. Then, he does it again. “Calm down.”

“Fe-elix,” Chan whines. Felix can feel himself clench around the single digit, but his body doesn’t yield.

Felix lifts his arm from the mattress, which feels as if its’ been weighted down by a magnet, and the quilt is made of steel. Ripping his hand away from the upturned blanket, he starts anew. First circling his nipples, and then drawing his fingers down his stomach. Then, he gives himself a few slow strokes, and slowly but surely his body relaxes. When he’s completely relaxed, he can feel Chan work a second finger inside.

“I forgot how nice this was.”

“It’s really, really nice Chan. Your cock is perfect.” Is, not was. Felix would rather talk about things like they never changed at all.

“You’re really warm. Like pulling me inside,” Chan’s voice is molten-sweet, and Felix would do anything he asked of him when he talked to him like this.

It takes a long time, but they build up a rhythm: push tug, push tug. Felix’s body feels like a candle burning at both ends, and now that he’s so close he’s not sure if he wants it to end. Yet, he cannot slow down. He cannot stop himself. He can feel more pressure on his hole as Chan sinks in another finger. With three fingers, it’s difficult to hit his spot, but he feels full and somehow that matters more. Doing it this way feels more like Chan’s cock felt. Feels real. Felix twists his fist around his cock. From Felix’s mouth spills two voices, both distinctly Felix and Chan’s at once. Hissing each other’s names, they form a single muddled name, “Chan,” layered on top of, “Felix.”

Too soon after they’ve cum, Chan’s spirit leaves Felix’s body, and the feeling is far more bizarre than the actual act of possession. While Chan was inside of him, there was no pressure, no pain, or the slightest hint of unpleasant sensation. Chan’s exit feels as if something heavy had been sitting on Felix’s chest, but he didn’t know it until Chan left. The relief is overwhelming, the ache in his chest and in his muscles, disconcerting.

Chan appears at his side, and he can feel cool lips upon his mouth again. He can feel Chan try to tuck his hair back away from his face over again, and fail to do so. “I love you Felix.”

“Love you too Chan.”

They lie like that for some time. Chan traces soft icy patterns onto Felix’s skin, and Chan’s cool touch makes his sweat dampened skin turn to gooseflesh. Felix sighs with contentment. He doesn’t stir until he thinks about the rest of the frosted cupcakes in the Tupperware container in the kitchen. He and Chan used to get so hungry after sex. They’d eat shameful quantities of frozen pizza, and fruit, and toast with marmalade. He’s going to eat the rest of his cupcakes for old times’ sake.

Before he goes to the kitchen he asks, “you said I had two gifts.”

“Memory box,” Chan supplies. “I’d get it for you but,” Chan tails his hands down Felix’s side eventually resting on his thigh.

“Ghost batteries drained?” That happens to him whenever Chan does a lot of interacting with the human world. He cannot grab things, or he cannot talk, or his spirit becomes more translucent than usual. They’d just done a lot of physical, tangible things.

“Yes,” Chan admits.

Felix rises, and goes to his shelf where his memory box sits. It’s filled with all kinds of things that Chan has brought him through the years: pressed flowers, gold coins from his father’s collection, stamps, little half melted army men from when they were children. When Chan first died, he had very limited ability to act with the physical world, and so his gifts were strange: bits of twine, and odd shaped twigs, the neighbor kid’s milk tooth when it was slipped underneath a pillow waiting for the tooth fairy. He couldn’t bring much home, but he wanted to bring Felix gifts nonetheless. So they were Felix’s treasures.

Chan immediately notices a small tarnished silver ring in the box. He grabs it up immediately and rubs the tarnish away revealing a streak of pure silver.

“Found it in the gutter when you were waiting for the bus.”

Felix shoves the ring down his finger. “That’s what you were messing around with.”

“Yeah,” Chan admits. “We can’t get married in a church like you want. Maybe it’s more like a promise ring? You like it?” Chan always does that when he’s nervous, starts talking and just doesn’t stop.

Right now? Felix doesn’t mind.

“Yeah,” Felix breathes. “It’s nice.” He holds his hand upward toward the light. It catches, and it shines despite the fact that it still desperately needs a cleaning. “You asking me to-“ His mouth pulls into a smirk.

  
“That whole, ‘til death thing,”’ Chan says.

“We’ll leave that part out. Okay?”


End file.
